


Hope

by like_water



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining, and don't see each other until after, crowley and aziraphale are separated before the apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_water/pseuds/like_water
Summary: Crowley doesn't dare to hope.





	Hope

The end of the world -- comes to an end. The earth rebooted, the terms of service renegotiated, the end of times postponed indefinitely, and life, it appears, reset, to go on like nothing happened. 

Crowley, exhausted, goes home, falls into bed, and sleeps through the entire first day and night of the rest of his life. Then he gets up to reacquaint himself with this new world that they had all been gifted. 

He gets in the Bentley and drives to Soho, to see how Aziraphale is adapting to the new reality, and because, as he reluctantly admits to himself, he just wants to see the angel - because while he knows Aziraphale is safe 1, the residue of the anxiety and terror of the recent events still won’t leave him alone, and the sense that the world has changed makes him want to see with his own eyes that Aziraphale is still part of it. The angel’s words of them never seeing each other again keep coming back to him in waves, too, despite the fact that the end of the world has passed like a spot of bad weather and the balance has been restored. Nothing has changed, it seems, but everything has changed. He needs to see Aziraphale.

Thus, it is almost twenty-four hours after the re-launch of reality that Crowley pulls up in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

*

In retrospect, he’ll think that perhaps he should’ve called first. 

*

The bookshop doesn’t seem to have been altered; there is an air of -- he doesn’t know how to describe it (which, he doesn’t feel he can be blamed, having no previous experience with averted Armageddons and what the world feels like afterwards). There’s a feeling of newness of an old thing.  


He shuts the door behind him and takes a step towards the silhouette of the angel emerging from the backroom. 

Of all reactions he might have anticipated, Aziraphale stopping dead in mid-step and staring at him in shock wasn’t one he’d have expected. Crowley raises an eyebrow.  


“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, angel,” he says. “I hope the reboot of the universe didn’t wipe your mem-”  
“I thought you were dead,” Aziraphale interrupts, so quietly Crowley barely hears him. “I thought you were dead,” he repeats slightly louder, with a little incredulous gasp, and then he surges towards Crowley, crossing the space between them in two long strides and enveloping him in a crushing embrace. Crowley stumbles backwards, grabbing his shoulders for balance.

“Angel,” Crowley tries, after a solid minute passes and Aziraphale doesn’t move or release him from his iron grip. No response.  
“Aziraphale. I’m alright,” he says, but the arms around him tighten even more and Aziraphale buries his face in the crook of his neck. Well. This is new. 

They have spent six thousand years in each other’s orbit and got used to each other’s presence; after a couple thousand years Crowley had noticed that he got so accustomed to the angel’s company that going extended periods of time without seeing him put him in a foul mood; after another couple of centuries the thought of permanently losing the angel had become unbearable. Initially, the realization caused him some serious distress, but, unable to do anything about his feelings, he was eventually forced to accept them. He never tried to act on them, however, and while he -- dreamt, he’s never gone as far as to allow himself the hope that the angel might return his attraction. 

He wishes he could allow himself to hope, now; instead, he tells himself desperately, acutely aware of the angel’s face pressed into his neck and his arms around Crowley’s middle, the uncharacteristic behaviour he’s witnessing must be a response to the stress the angel has experienced. It’s the aftershocks. It’ll pass. 

“I thought they killed you,” the angel whispers into Crowley’s skin. "You weren’t answering your phone. You weren’t in your flat, but on the floor... Crowley, there was--”  
“That was Ligur,” says Crowley as it finally dawns on him that the last time Aziraphale saw him was before the Apocalypse properly begun, and didn't hear from him for hours after it was stopped; if he didn't see him during the Armageddon-that-wasn't and in the meantime, visited his flat and all he found were remains of a demon on the floor -- well, he couldn’t be blamed for assuming the worst. “They came for me,” Crowley continues, “but I made good use of the holy water. Thanks, angel.” 

Tentatively, he wraps his arms around Aziraphale and the angel sags against him a little, his body less tense. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” he says and Crowley just doesn’t know what to say to that, so he awkwardly strokes his back, and doesn’t dare to hope.

Finally, Aziraphale lets go and takes a step back; one of his hands slides down Crowley’s arm, and the angel’s fingers, for a moment, linger on his, and it’s Crowley’s time to freeze in shock. He looks down at his hand and up at Aziraphale, and before he has time to process and react, the angel steps away.  


“May I tempt you to some lunch?” he asks and Crowley can only nod and follow him outside. 

* 

They go out for lunch and while they eat, for the first time ever, a nightingale sings in Berkeley Square. 

Then they go for a walk, taking a long route through several parks; in the evening, they take a stroll along the Thames, and as the stars begin to come out, Aziraphale turns to Crowley, takes his face in both hands and, for the first time ever, they kiss. 

The flicker of hope in Crowley’s heart turns into a roaring blaze. 

He takes Aziraphale’s hand and they walk home, and nothing is changed, and everything is.

*

1 The madness of the events of the Apocalypse had swept them apart and they didn’t fight side by side, but Crowley had seen, from afar, how the angel fought and stood his ground and eventually emerged unscathed from the hell that had broken loose around them. 


End file.
